


Funquisition

by SlaveToMyKeyboard



Series: Fluff n Stuff [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cutesy, Dorilavellan mentioned, Fenhawke mentioned, Fenris makes an elf friend, Fluff, Gen, Play Fighting, Silly, Sparring
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 09:24:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13408257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlaveToMyKeyboard/pseuds/SlaveToMyKeyboard
Summary: Lighthearted drabbles about the Dragon Age crew, mostly set in the inquisition era.





	Funquisition

Talking wasn't exactly one of Fenris’ strong suits. He didn't see the need for pleasantries or “small talk”. If there was nothing to be said, then silence was a natural occurrence.

_ These people should be lucky that I'm not speaking my mind _ , was a thought that came to him often, as were Hawke’s words of; “ _ if you can't say anything nice, then don't say anything at all _ .” He justified his compliance by deciding not to waste his breath on these people.

Soon, many of Skyhold's residents got the message. They stopped talking, stopped asking, stopped saying hello as if they actually cared. Inquisitor Lavellan, however, was the exception. Or rather, he  _ made himself _ the exception

He was incessant, somehow worse than Merrill in his quest to befriend everyone, including Fenris. They were as far apart as they could get in personal history; a Dalish mage, set to lead his clan, and an elven slave from tevinter, with magic burned unwillingly into his body. Yet he kept trying, changing his plan of attack until something worked.

Eventually, to Fenris’ surprise, something did.

“No magic,” Fenris told Lavellan, removing his clawed gauntlets.

“And no weapons,” the other elf replied, grinning and bouncing on the balls of his feet.

They were stripped of most armour and anything that could be seen as an advantage, standing a few feet apart in a muddy pit by the camp. They'd chosen dusk, not wanting curious onlookers. This was bonding, not a simple test of strength. Though, Fenris was fairly confident that he would triumph.

“Guest has the first move,” Lavellan said, taking on a fighting stance, feet planted to steady himself on the loose, wet earth and tail swinging behind him as a counterbalance. He'd clearly had some training, at least, but he was too eager to partake in regular hand-to-hand combat.

Fenris snorted. “You wish to give yourself even more of a disadvantage? Brave or stupid? I can't decide.” He wasn't serious, exchanging a smile with his opponent.

“Why don't you come find out?”

The Inquisitor was quick, faster than Fenris had expected, and with flexibility that would rival Isabela’s. He dodged outstretched claws, wriggling from their grasp like an eel when Fenris bested his reflexes, but he made little attempt to return the attacks. It was like he wanted to be caught, but would make Fenris work for it. Or perhaps he aimed to tire him out? Hah. A fool’s errand, he could fight for hours with the Lyrium in his veins, but Lavellan was already out of breath. Yet still, he grinned, laughed, as if they were playing a game.

Maybe they were, Fenris considered. There was nothing to win except winning itself, nothing at stake except pride and bragging rights, if one so chose.

The ground soon became treacherous, their feet sinking into the mud, slowing their movements. Fenris saw his chance at a slight hesitation in the Inquisitor’s steps, a slip of one heel and unsure footing with the other. He hooked their ankles together and twisted, putting the smaller elf flat on his back with a satisfying  _ slap  _ as he hit the quagmire they'd made of the ground.

For a moment, Lavellan was stunned. Then his face broke out into a smile.

“Well played,” he panted.

“You're quick, I'll give you that,” Fenris said, extending a hand to help him up.

The Inquisitor took it, but then pulled, dragging an unsuspecting Fenris down into the mud next to him. Before he could move, soft hands held his wrists and a weight settled on his stomach.

“Thanks,” Lavellan replied, smirking down at him. “I know.”

Fenris rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help a low chuckle. “Fighting dirty in both senses, are we?”

“Indeed.” His voice was a purr. Fenris thought he resembled a cat taunting their prey before eating it. “We only agreed no magic and no weapons, unless you count my sharp wit amongst the latter?”

He scoffed. “Hardly-” a drip of thick, dark mud fell from Lavellan’s hair and interrupted him as it landed on his cheek.

The Dalish elf laughed at that, soft and genuine, before releasing one of Fenris’ wrists to smear the mud across his nose. “You look like Hawke.”

Fenris didn't miss a beat in retaliating, using his newly freed hand to spike Lavellan’s hair into a fauxhawk. “And you look like Pavus.”

He gasped, but did nothing to correct his new hairstyle, nor did Fenris attempt to clean his face. They stayed like that for a few moments, exchanging sly smiles and gentle laughs. If it hadn't begun to rain, Fenris would have been quite happy to stay there longer, listening to the gentle, wet thumps of their tails hitting the ground, unable to stay still from the excitement. But he soon began to shiver, as did the other elf, neither of them wearing appropriate clothes for the weather.

 

“What  _ have _ you two been doing?” Hawke was the first to notice them return, ushering the shivering elves into the camp.

“Ssp-sparring,” Lavellan replied through chattering teeth. “Fenris knocked me r-right on my arse,” he added with a weak chuckle.

Fenris gave a soft snort, clenching his own jaw before he spoke. “You gave as good as you got.”

“I  _ told _ you we should have gone looking,” came a far more worried voice.

Dorian approached them both with a frown like a disapproving parent, but said nothing more. Fenris guessed that it was  _ his _ presence preventing the other elf from getting an earful - Pavus never did start arguments with him.

“I'm sure they've both had worse than a little mud and rain,” Hawke told him, yet he still grabbed a blanket and threw it around them. At least most of the mud had been washed off already. “Go sit by the fire, I'll bring you both food and a drink - no arguments.”

“Yes,  _ Ser Hawk _ ,” Fenris sneered, his expression quickly relaxing into a playful smirk.

He gave Hawke a wink, and Dorian a scowl, before dropping an arm over Lavellan’s shoulders and leading him to the fireside. He had no intention of stealing Dorian’s lover, nor betraying his own, but it was always fun to tease. Besides, he'd developed somewhat of a… soft spot for the Inquisitor. He was unlike any elf he'd ever met, and that endeared him to Fenris in unexpected ways. And it seemed that the feeling was mutual.

“You're freezing,” Lavellan muttered, pulling the blanket tight around them as he cuddled up to Fenris’ side.

“When are you going to learn that pointing out something on someone else does not prevent it from also being applied to you?” In spite of his chiding, Fenris pulled the other elf closer, resting his cheek against his soaked hair.

The Inquisitor just mumbled something incoherent. He was barely awake when Hawke returned with their food, and fell asleep soon after finishing it, still huddled to Fenris’ side. It was the only time his tail stopped wagging, Fenris noticed with an amused smile, his own still twitching slightly. That too stopped when he finally drifted off, curled up by the fire and still half wet and muddy, but more content than he'd been in a long time. Definitely the most he'd ever been with another elf.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed!


End file.
